


How To Draw Beauty From Pain

by Calliope_Soars



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Meddling Roommates, Mutual Pining, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), SamSteve Gift Exchange, Sprinkles of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9426854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliope_Soars/pseuds/Calliope_Soars
Summary: With a little (unsolicited) help from his friends, Steve remembers that not everything has to be doom and gloom all the time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for tumblr user **[dream-into-action](www.dream-into-action.tumblr.com)**  
>  My apologies for the delay, real life sort of suckerpunched me.  
> I do truly hope you enjoy this.
> 
> The prompt was: "going through the list of things Steve has in his notebook"
> 
> Massive love to my darling friends who had to tell me to chill out several times & beta'ed this mess into something resembling a story. I am forever grateful.
> 
> The title comes from J.P. Cooper's song 'We Were Raised Under Grey Skies'.

**  
relief**

_Thank Goodness I have nearly_  
_unlearned_  
_folding my desire into itself_  
_being afraid to claim it_

 - **Yrsa Daley-Ward**

* * *

 

“You really are a scatterbrain, Rogers.”

“It’ll only take a second, I’m sure it’s in this room.”

Sam sighs but his expression reveals a fondness. “You said that about the bathroom and bedroom as well. We better not end up missing this movie, man...especially since it was _your_ idea to go.” Despite his words, he does help Steve check the couch cushions for a third time.

They do end up missing the previews (Sam’s favourite part, “and you know that, Rogers!”), but by some miracle Steve manages to get them the perfect middle seats in the movie theatre so Sam elects to stop his grumblings for now. As the credits roll and the lights come back on, Steve tries not to notice the way Sam’s satisfied smile makes him nervous and blurts out, “I bet I left it at home...uh, at your place I mean.”

Sam does that very kind thing he tends to do where he ignores Steve’s awkwardness (and his rapidly increasing blush) for the good of all. He turns away slightly to put on his coat, giving Steve a moment to rearrange his face into something somewhat calmer, and hums in agreement. “I’ll make sure to check when I get there tomorrow.” Steve nods at this and wishes for the millionth time that Sam would just move to New York already.

The next morning Sam has breakfast with the rest of the Avengers in the main common area before he has to head off to the airport. “Don’t miss me too much,” he jokes with a wide grin and sorta hauls Steve into a tight warm hug. One that manages to make him feel small and safe and off kilter, all at once. “Be good,” Sam adds softly so only he can hear, giving Steve’s shoulder a quick squeeze to emphasise his point. Sam throws a casual wave to the rest of the room and then rounds the corner. Steve can feel some of his fellow Avengers staring at him. He tries and fails to look unaffected, then mutters something about ‘training’ as he bolts down to the Tower gym.  


* * *

  
A few days later Steve receives a package from D.C. - from Sam! - and carefully opens it. Enclosed he finds his small notebook, a child’s drawing and a note from Sam. His note says how he found Steve’s book in one of the many boxes filled with stuff from Steve’s D.C. apartment. He goes on to say that they really should go through them to see what’s even worth keeping. When his little nephew Jody heard uncle Sam was sending a package to Captain America he was scolded for not telling him sooner. Because, apparently, it couldn’t be sent off without including a Jody original. Steve picks up the kid’s drawing, and can’t help but smile since it’s an illustration of  Cap & Falcon holding hands with the caption ‘Superhero Best Friends!’ underneath it in bright green crayon. A sharp, hot sense of wanting runs through him at the simple thought of them holding hands in real life and him touching Sam like he’s allowed. Steve scoffs at himself and murmurs a low “get a grip.” He does stick the drawing on his fridge, quickly taking a picture of it to text to Sam so he can show Jody that his uncle keeps his promises.

It had been a long time since Steve had actually thought about his notebook. A lot of things had taken precedent after all. Holding his red notebook in his hands now, Steve isn’t sure why he was so adamant to find it in the first place. He flips through it until he gets to the last page he’d written on, the day he met Sam. It really does seem like a lifetime ago and suddenly feels like such a silly childish thing to have carried around. Perhaps he was naive to think that he would have time to explore this new world he’d woken up in. After the fall of Shield, after Bucky...yeah he had been naive for sure.  


* * *

  
Months go by and despite the lack of Shield, the Avengers are consistently kept busy. It doesn’t take long for Sam to notice the strain around Steve’s eyes, the rigid way he’s holding himself. So with an ease and generosity unique to him, he offers to follow the latest lead on Bucky as long as Steve goes to see his therapist every week. Sam watches his friend blink back tears with all his might, twist his mouth into a fragile smile. He sighs deeply, can’t help himself and gingerly folds the blond into an embrace. Sam pets the nape of Steve’s neck for a beat before taking a step back.

“I got it, but you have to keep your end of the deal,” he states plainly, as if he hasn’t just taken half the weight off of Steve’s shoulders. They both pretend Steve’s eyes aren’t red from crying onto Sam’s shirt. They really have gotten quite good at pretending over the years.

“I’ll go talk to Nat,” Sam gives him a tender look for a second, like he might hug him again. Instead he quirks his head a little, gives it a shake. “Be good,” he says in that soft careful way of his, squeezing the other man’s shoulder like he always does when he’s about to leave. Steve tries very hard not to cry again. Instead he nods, ignoring the way his voice cracks midway through his string of thank yous.

It takes four days for Sam to accept that he’s in Puerto Rico on a bad lead, so he adds on an extra day because he sure as hell deserves to drink a few cocktails with his toes buried in the sand. Frankly, Sam isn’t quite ready to face Steve’s dejected face when he tells him the intel was no good. He needs a moment to get rid of the burn of frustration so stubbornly stuck in his throat. His phone pings, Sam unlocks it to find a text from Steve - a picture of his therapist’s waiting room. It takes him a ridiculously long time to answer back, perhaps he drank more than he thought. Sam’s heart aches in a way he doesn’t fully understand. He wants to say he’s glad, that he’s so proud and knows how hard it all is. Sam wants to say a lot of things and thanks to these crazy strong drinks it’s a near thing. All he sends in the end is a joke, since that’s how Sam Wilson deals with these heavy inconvenient feelings for his best friend.

‘Man, you better get your skinny ass into the actual office,’ he texts back, which somehow earns him a picture of a smirking Steve Rogers giving him a salute. Sam gives a sharp laugh, drains his glass and gestures for another in some pathetic attempt to ignore the warm swooping feeling in his belly.

Despite being desperately hungover, Sam makes it back to New York the following day and heads directly to the Tower. “Hey Jarvis, where can I find Steve?”

Clint answers before Jarvis has the chance. “Mission, he’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Yes, Mr. Barton is _actually_ correct.” The A.I. declares somewhat haughtily.

“Don’t mind him, Jarvis is in a mood today.” Clint says in a stage whisper.

“Alright then, I see things are still weird here. Good to know.”

Sam shakes his head a little, glad that he doesn’t have to actually deal with this type of peak nonsense on a daily basis, and walks to where the archer is leaning against the kitchen counter. It isn’t until he gets closer that he notices the red notebook in Clint’s hands - _Steve’s notebook_. His hangover promptly makes itself known again with a mean persistent throb behind his eyes. Sam pinches the bridge of his nose, lets out a long breath, he really doesn’t want to be dealing with this.

“Dude, _why_ do you have that?” Sam huffs.

Clint doesn’t even look up, flips a page and then another. “I found it.”

Tony walks in before Sam can respond to that non-answer, slaps him on the shoulder and exclaims, “Birdman, you’re back!” He pours himself a large cup of coffee and only notices Clint after he’s taken several big gulps. “Oh man,” he snorts a little. “I see you’re reading Cap’s epically depressing to-do list.” Tony is still smirking until he sees Sam’s annoyed expression.

“Not cool, guys. Give the damn man some privacy, he deserves at least that.” Sam snatches the book out of Clint’s hands, who actually lets out a petulant ‘hey!’ and tries to grab it back. Sam smacks his hands away, rolling his eyes at these fools. This only aggravates the hell out of his pounding head, an exasperated groan escapes him. “Y’all are honestly a bunch of children!” He sticks the book in the back pocket of his jeans and goes to pour himself a coffee as well. God, he should’ve just taken a nap at his mom’s place before coming to this frathouse. Sam regrets everything. He’s already mentally booking his flight back to D.C.

“Sammy, don’t be like that,” Tony starts, “it’s not like we snuck into his room or anything. He left it in the kitchen and we didn’t know it was Cap’s super secret sad list.” Clint is actually pouting while nodding along, which is honestly just a ridiculous sight on a grown man - let alone one that’s supposed to be a superhero. “I kinda wish I hadn’t read it, bummed me out so much that I actually let Dummy help me in the workshop. Let’s just say, major damage was done.”

Both Clint and Sam give him blank stares. “Lots and lots of fires.” Tony raises his brows while sort of miming what look to be explosions with his hands.

Sam refills his mug, “whatever man.” He heads down towards Steve’s quarters to wait for him there, but not before shaking his head at the two Avengers and mumbling, “actual grown ass men behaving like goddamn children!”  
  
Despite the challenging group dynamic in the Tower, Sam still hangs around a few more days. It’s good to not have worry about a crisis for a little while. Of course it’s no hardship to spend some more time with Steve while off the clock. Though that’s not something he would go around telling people, since they’d definitely get the wrong idea. Absently, Sam makes his way to the common room again, rubbing at the crick in his neck while off in search of some type of breakfast.

“Why is he being so intense about his notebook lately?”

Sam tries really hard not to sigh at the sound of Tony’s voice, briefly contemplates turning back to Steve’s room. His rumbling stomach disagrees vehemently, so with great reluctance he does round the corner into the kitchen. He sees Natasha, Clint and Tony are mostly done with their breakfast.

“A hundred bucks says it’s a therapy assignment,” Clint says eagerly.

“I’m not getting into another bet with you, Barton. You cheat!”

Clint just pouts at Tony, looking almost comically offended, then turns to Natasha to defend his honour. “Anyway...you gotta admit it does make sense, you know how he gets about homework. I don’t even have to trick the man into doing my post-mission reports.” The archer shrugs a little at his admission. Sam clenches his jaw to keep from snapping at these people, because he’d actually thought this topic was over and done with.

Tony is the first to notice Sam, greets him with an enthusiastic “Oh hey Sammy! Great timing, the bakery delivery came in not too long ago.” Sam walks over to the large white box set on the counter and picks up a danish. He takes a bite, lets out a joyful sound and mentally takes back all the mean shit he’d been thinking about Tony just a minute ago.  
  
“S’good!” Sam swallows, licks some frosting from his thumb. “Thanks for this and for letting me crash here for a couple of days.”

Tony visibly preens, which would be kind of adorable if he didn’t immediately follow it up with a brag. “Never let it be said that Tony Stark isn’t a damn good host!”

Natasha smacks the back of Tony’s head, after which she pushes a cup of coffee into Sam’s free hand. “Tony means to say that you’re part of the team and this place is as much yours as any of ours. He’s happy to have you. Anytime.” She quirks a sly half smile Sam’s way, which he warmly returns. “Yeah, I figured that’s what that was.” He winks at Tony and returns to his delicious, fresh pastry. It takes a beat until he catches Clint being all skittery.

“So!” Sam says loud enough to startle Clint, “what were you guys talking about before I came in?”

“Dude, it’s not our fault, we tried staying out of it, but the dude keeps leaving his little notebook in the kitchen. And I enjoy light reading, so yeah…” Clint tapers off into a soft murmur at the end there. Sam’s disapproving look probably didn’t help him commit to his BS excuse. “I expect this from these two jokers, but Natasha - come on now, you’re too good for this.”

Natasha deftly arranges her fine features in such a way that perfectly conveys that Sam shouldn’t presume to know anything about her. No one should. All three men take a second to compose themselves after witnessing the badassery of that look.

“Birdman, stop making Nat scarier than she already is and indulge us with some insight into your man’s behaviour.”

“He’s not my -”  
  
“Yeah whatever, your best friend, your brother in arms. Who cares?! What’s up with Cap’s renewed interest in his little diary of despair?” Tony surprises everyone by actually producing said notebook and sliding it down the counter towards Sam.

Sam hesitates to touch it, so Natasha obviously takes it upon herself to open to the most recent page and hold it right in front of Sam’s face. He feels silly at the way he instantly shuts his eyes, but having Steve’s back is a part of him now and this feels inherently wrong.

With one eye open, he catches the first three entries that are underlined: Apartheid, Bosnia & Rwanda genocide. The shock has Sam open both eyes and scan further down the page. His stomach drops. _Oh god, Steve._

“We’re worried, Sam.” Natasha smoothes her hand down his arm, carefully moving the book away from him and placing it back on the counter.

“When we met, this was a fun thing for him. Or at least, that’s how it looked. This is…” Sam doesn’t know how to continue. It had been adorable to see the actual Captain America scribble down Sam’s album suggestion with such eagerness. It had made him seem accessible and normal - more human than his heroic exploits would have you believe.

“I know none of us are the poster kids for mental health, but there’s no way his therapist asked him to do this.” Tony purses his lips a little, tone more solemn than usual. “Or, if this was some type of assignment, Cap’s got it all wrong.” Clint hums in agreement, Nat leans a little closer towards Sam.

Tony taps his finger on the book’s faded red cover. “This is all wrong. Nothing but, _‘let’s read about all the pain and suffering I’ve missed and torment myself for not being there to stop it’_. That can’t be the point. It’s gonna mess him up even more.”

He can feel their eyes on him, waiting for wise words that’ll fix this all up. Sam simply raises both his hands and shrugs. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know that I can.” He feels winded, disheartened after seeing Steve’s pain written down in ink. It’s one thing to notice the tension in the man’s eyes and recognise the stillness of his grief, but it’s another to have it confirmed so brutally. It hurts him. Sam wants to sit down, hit pause and just stop a while.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” Clint sounds soft and careful. It makes Sam’s stomach squirm uncomfortably, like he’s exposed himself somehow. Perhaps he’s only good at pretending with Steve, because right now it sure seems like he is wholly transparent. Eager to be anywhere but here, Sam hums an affirmative and walks out the same way he came in.

It’s probably time he went to see his mom in Harlem. Yes, that’s for the best. He just needs to see his mom and everything will be better, easier. He needs a breath, a minute and then maybe he can fix this ache he feels all over.  


* * *

  
The ache won’t dissipate, yet does provide Sam with an helpful excuse to avoid the Tower and ignore all Steve related thoughts. It takes no time at all for his mother to snap at him to go for a walk and get out of her hair, since he clearly has no plans to be an adult about whatever is bothering him. He presses a kiss on her cheek, mutters a thank you that has her hugging him back tightly.

Steve shows off his impeccable timing and texts just as Sam is walking towards the subway station. It’s an tentative, clumsy invite for dinner, as if the man has already braced himself for a rejection. Guilt burns in the pit of Sam’s stomach when he thinks of the texts and calls he’d left unanswered these past days. He answers quickly, his way of apologising for his previous silence, and states he’s on his way. Steve simply sends back a very happy looking emoji.

When Sam arrives at the Tower, it’s Jarvis that lets him into Steve’s suite. “Steve?” His heart picks up when he doesn’t get a reply. Just when he’s about to ask Jarvis what the hell is going on, Sam finds the blond standing in the living room with his back facing him.

“Are you okay?”

Steve turns around to face Sam, something like confusion marring his features.

“Someone wrote in this.” He holds up his notebook.

“Okay.” Sam has several suspects in mind but keeps his face neutral. “Is that bad?” he asks cautiously, since Steve is simply staring at whatever has been written there.

“No.”

He can’t gauge anything from Steve’s muted tone or still expression, so he leaves it be. “So...are you going to feed me or what, Rogers?” Sam nudges him gently, “I was promised dinner.”

Steve drops the book on his coffee table, blinks a few times before locking eyes with Sam. His smile unfurls slowly, revealing a warm and tender thing. He swings an arm around Sam’s shoulders and pulls him along towards the kitchen. “Anyone ever tell you you’re pretty high maintenance, Sam?”

“You know I’m worth it.” Sam almost regrets his words except then the most handsome dusting of colour appears across the bridge of Steve’s nose, and the urge to kiss him is intense and immediate. Glancing off to the side, the blond bites his lip and rasps out a ‘yeah’ so faint Sam thinks he might’ve imagined it.

Jarvis kindly breaks the palpable tension with a call to Assemble.  


* * *

  
Once the Avengers have properly dealt with the threat, it’s already 3 days later and Sam has to return to his mother’s place to gather his things and head back out of town. After all, he does in fact have a real job and a house in D.C., which means he can’t be hanging around the Tower like a dazed, lovesick teenager waiting for the ‘right’ moment to present itself. Despite all these sensible reasons, Sam is still extremely grumpy that that last particular moment was wasted. It doesn’t help that his mom kisses his forehead and says how happy she is that _‘he’s not fighting with his boy anymore’_ just before he ducks into his taxi. Sam blushes all the way to the airport.

Two weeks later Sam is back in New York for the birthday of one of his oldest and closest friends. So obviously he texts Steve to tell him he’ll be in town, cause that’s super casual and totally something friends do. Steve calls back within a minute of the text, which shouldn’t surprise Sam at this point because it’s _very_ him to not care about appearances. It probably shouldn’t please him as much as it does either, but oh well…

“I thought I’d call ‘cause it’s easier,” Steve mumbles in greeting, as both men politely pretend to believe this excuse. A move that remains infinitely easier than admitting they have really missed each other. Steve’s voice contains a lightness that had been absent for far too long. The combination of all these things is so devastatingly endearing, that Sam can’t help the smile that spread across his face. A completely _platonic_ smile of course.

Steve offers to help him buy a gift for Paula, despite both of them knowing that Steve is a horrible and highly impatient shopper. However, the mere idea of spending time outside of the Tower, the two of them together, is so appealing that Sam finds himself agreeing within seconds of the offer.

They pick out a beautiful record player for Paula and at Steve’s insistence a few essential vinyls to start off her collection. Sam manages not to blush when he realises these are all albums he’d recommended to Steve himself in the past. By the faint pink spots settled high on his cheeks, Steve’s attempt to hide his emotions is less than successful. Sam can’t help but chuckle at how visibly pleased the blond looks when he goes to buy all of his suggestions. Before heading back to the Tower, Steve goes into a craft store with a somewhat confused Sam trailing behind. Sam doesn’t actually see what Steve ends up buying as he might’ve been slightly irritated at the sales woman’s flirting towards his friend.

Right after Sam gathers enough courage to ask Steve along to Paula’s birthday party, the man proceeds to get a call from Maria Hill. It’s painful to watch the tension snake back into Steve’s frame.

“Sam, I’m so sorry. I have to head over to Texas right now with a small team to -”

“- You don’t have to explain anything. Maria will most definitely kill you if you give out mission details to just anyone.” Sam interrupts, his tone light.

“You’re **not** just anyone,” Steve mutters with a hefty amount of petulance. He frowns hard, looking ready to argue Sam’s importance, which only makes Sam want to pull him close. Or maybe kiss him a little bit.

“It’s all good, this is important and they need Cap,” Sam soothes. “I’m just gonna have to find myself another date.” His face heats at his wording and his stomach does that twisty panicked thing, especially when Steve’s frown deepens. “Or go stag,” Sam says with something akin to nonchalance. He moves his hand to squeeze the blond’s shoulder. “Be good, Rogers,” Sam says while swallowing down the rest as usual - the _‘be safe and please come back’_ parts of it don’t quite make it past his lips. Like always, Sam’s parting words warm Steve from the inside out, and he is struck mute by having so much caring directed at him.  


* * *

  
Sam decided to sleep off his hangover at the Tower (at Steve’s). Mostly to avoid his mother’s inevitable mocking and maybe in part because drunk!Sam was _really really_ missing Steve. He has a blurry memory of Paula ordering him to bring ‘his boyfriend’ with him next time, since he was apparently killing her ‘bday buzz’ with his pouting. He thinks he might have redeemed himself in the end by doing all those vodka shots with the birthday girl. Sam stretches his arms above his head and rolls out of bed, in search of something to stop this pounding headache.

Instead he finds Steve in the living room staring at his laptop, headphones in and his super serious concentration face on. Sam is careful not to startle him and gives the blond a soft tap on the shoulder.

“Hey, how you feelin’?” Steve all but whispers. Because of course Steve Rogers would be this genuinely concerned about Sam’s self inflicted hangover. “Left some Advil out on the counter for you.”

“I’m good, man - thanks. How did the mission go? Are _you_ alright?!”

Steve offers half a shrug and a dismissive hand gesture as answer. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about it so Sam lets it go.

“Have you gone to bed yet?” Sam tries.

“Still got too much adrenaline going on. Besides,” Steve gestures at his laptop, “I figured I’d give this a try.” He throws a bashful glance towards Sam, “you wanna see?” When Sam nods, this precious man quickly pulls the headphones out and hits play on the how-to video he’d been watching.

“Cross stitch?”

Sam really should win a large cash prize for how neutral he manages to say that. Steve still turns a bright red colour though, “someone wrote it in my notebook and it looked nice. Why not, you know?”

“What else did it say?” Sam’s curiosity is tempered by his unease to involve himself in this messiness. He only allows himself this one question.

Steve pretends not to hear him, focusing instead on unpacking his bag from the craft store. “This is a lot more complicated than I thought it would be.” For the life of him, Sam can’t decipher Steve’s tone, which causes his protective nature to rear its head.

“You don’t have to do anything that doesn’t make you happy.” Steve gives Sam a quizzical look. Sam lets out a slow breath, mindful of his phrasing. “Just ‘cause something is on the list, doesn’t make it mandatory. Even if whoever wrote it meant well. You get to decide if you do it.”

“I know.” He chews on his bottom lip, meets Sam’s eyes and it all feels quite intimate now. Steve rubs his knuckles along his chin, in search of a way to explain this odd thing he’s fallen into. “It feels good to have a challenge, I feel good….without there being any stakes y’know. If I suck, it doesn’t matter. No one gets hurt. At most, I make something hideous.” Steve ducks his head, rummaging in his bag again. Maybe Steve should’ve left some of those words hidden under his tongue. He feels Sam squeeze his shoulder, only gentle kindness in his expression, and that familiar twang of warmth floods through him.

“Alright, well then by all means carry on.” Sam leaves Steve to his cross stitching challenge.  


* * *

  
“Hey man.”

“Sam,” Steve greets, knowing he sounds too giddy, but he can’t help it. It’s as if his entire being has been lit up. There’s this dizzying mix of surprise and happiness that floors him whenever he realises Sam hasn’t left him yet. He looks so good here, so close by, so at home. Sam grins sweetly and sits down next to him on the couch. Steve feels almost greedy then, mutely wishing Sam would move a little closer - maybe press the length of his frame against his. _Purely_ to ground him of course.

Flustered by his thoughts, Steve grabs the large pillow next to him, cradling it in his arms until he’s basically clutching at it like a buoy. All his attention is back on the TV. Sam can’t help but notice how he looks so very young right now.

“Are you watching Captain Planet?”

Once again, Sam truly deserves a prize for maintaining his cool composure.

“It was on the list.”

Sam doesn’t ask if Steve knows who’s behind these helpful, happier suggestions for his list. He’s not sure he’s seen the man this calm, at least not beyond their carefree first meeting. The two men watch the green haired superhero save the planet. Sam turns to look at Steve and is overcome by tenderness.

“I like it,” Steve says once the episode is finished. He doesn’t add anything else to that statement, hugging the pillow even closer to his frame.

“I can see that,” Sam says with a single arched eyebrow, chuckling gently.

Steve flushes quite prettily, a quick wave of self consciousness rushing through him, so similar to the other night. He must look so stupid right now, following anonymous suggestions like this. Then Sam winks at him and suddenly none of that matters.

“You wanna watch another episode with me?”

“Sure, Steve.”

Steve sings along with the theme song, face adorably bright and voice slightly off key. And if that makes Sam want to kiss along that handsome blush, well that’s none of anyone business.

Their cartoon interlude is interrupted unexpectedly when Natasha struts in and drops a manila folder in Sam’s lap. “Your jet leaves in 2 hours, so go pack your essentials, soldier.”

“It’s Bucky, right?” Natasha ignores Steve’s question, giving him a look to remind him they’ve already been over this a million times. Steve gets minimal information, so his hopes aren’t continuously crushed and he can concentrate on his other missions. They had all agreed.

“He’s just going to Vancouver, he’ll be fine. Sam can handle himself.”

Natasha’s aim is always true and Steve falls silent. Right then, Sam walks back into the room with his go bag slung over his shoulder. Everyone acts like he didn’t overhear Black Widow comfort Captain America about his wellbeing.

“I’ll be back in no time. Be good.” Sam smirks, like he’s not about to chase down another Winter Soldier lead on his own. Steve nods miserably. Natasha herds Sam out of the door before the two men can touch, and their goodbye feels painfully incomplete.

* * *

  
As he expected, Sam doesn’t find Bucky in Vancouver. On the other hand, the Hydra cell in East Hastings definitely takes him by surprise. To the point that he’s more bruises than anything else. Sam comes away with a flash drive and a nasty bullet graze on his right shoulder. He texts Natasha a brief mission report after he’s cleaned himself up.

Just as he’s about to doze off on the lumpy motel bed, Sam’s phone bleeps twice. He opens it to find that Nat has sent him a video file. The message attached says, _‘since you got shot at today, here’s something nice_ ’.

Sam presses play, only to be met by a very intense closeup of Clint’s face:

 

_“Clint, back up from the camera. You’re blocking Steve.” Natasha sounds about ready to throttle the man, but he remains impressively unfazed._

_“This is a big moment, Nat - which means you need to add a little showmanship to it. Dazzle it up a bit. We can’t just go straight to the main event. I have to introduce the act first.”_

_“Ugh...you’re freaking Steve out. Shut up!”_

_Clint backs up a little bit, spreading his arms wide while bouncing slightly up and down from what Sam can only assume is excitement._

_“Ladies and gentlemen!” Clint bellows._

_“I thought you were only sending this to Sam,” Steve hisses, freaked out by the idea that this might end up going viral. Natasha makes a gesture at him off camera that seems to appease him._

_“Okay, okay, fine. Now let me host goddamnit,” Clint frowns a little, then plasters a wide grin on his face. “Welcome welcome Mr. Wilson! For your viewing pleasure, we have arranged a unique and exclusive experience for you tonight. Something so one of a kind that it can never be recreated again. Our brave Captain America, Steven Grant Rogers, is overjoyed to share this moment with you.”_

_Steve pushes Clint aside, clearly annoyed but with a glint of stubborn determination in his eye. “Ok, enough of this. Hand over the bag.”_

_Sam sees Natasha’s small hand come into frame, a small black packet between her fingers. Steve takes it from her and immediately rips a thin strip off the top._

_“NO!” Steve pauses to look at a very distraught Clint. “You’re ruining the show. Dude, this is not how we agreed we were gonna do this.” Clint takes the packet off of Steve, “also stop with the scowling, this is supposed to be fun.”_

_“Honestly, I hate to say it but I kinda agree with Clint here.”_

_Steve glares at Natasha/the camera, looking quite betrayed and very dramatic. Sam lets out a low chuckle, shifting on the motel bed to get more comfortable._

_“So, Mr. Wilson - clearly our Captain is an amateur when it comes to showbiz, so let’s try this again.” Clint is actually beaming as he holds up the packet closer to the camera, “as you can see here, this is the classic American delicacy known as Pop Rocks. And our Steve has never had the pleasure of trying it before...what with the whole being frozen and shit.” Clint lets Steve back into the frame, handing the Pop Rocks back to the man._

_“One final warning - this is basically fireworks in your mouth, except you don’t die. The best, right?!” Steve looks bemused, but not deterred yet. “So yeah Cap, go ahead, pop away!”_

_Sam watches Steve make the rookie mistake of pouring what looks to be the entire packet of pink Pop Rocks into his mouth. Sam is outright howling with laughter at this point, wiping away actual tears. Clint’s dazzling show goes south really quickly when he realises that Steve has a mouth full of exploding candy. There’s a lot of shouting for Steve to spit it out and general chaos ensues._

_Nat turns the camera’s view back to her, a giant shit-eating grin on her face._

_“Soooo...you’re welcome.” She laughs and gives a final wink just before the video stops.  
_

* * *

  
Sam’s back in New York a few days later, somewhat worse for wear but in high spirits thanks to Natasha’s video. He makes his way to Steve’s floor first, as he’s too tired to pretend to care about socialising with the rest of the Avengers.

Steve pulls open the door before Sam has even had a chance to knock. He arches his eyebrow at the blond. “Yeah, so Jarvis may have told me you were in the building. I thought I’d come and meet you.”

Before Sam can even begin to formulate a response to all of that, Steve is suddenly standing very close to him. His mouth goes dry when Steve cups his face with warm wide hands. For a moment Sam thinks he’s going to say something, but instead Steve gazes at him with an intensity that makes his stomach squirm in the strangest way.

And then he presses his mouth against Sam’s. Soft and careful, like it might never happen again. Steve sighs against Sam’s lips, then bringing their mouths together to linger a bit longer this time. They break apart, Steve’s hands reluctant to leave the other man’s face. Sam feels off balance, torn between leaning back into Steve and actually processing what’s happened.

“It was on the list.”

Steve gives a light shrug and manages to maintain eye contact. He tries to look braver than he feels, tilts up the corners of his mouth. His fingers nervously tap against the soft red cover of the notebook now clutched in his hand.

Sam brushes two fingertips against his bottom lip, looking frozen and frowning a little. He licks his lips and Steve can’t help but stare. He’s being too quiet for too long, _oh god this was a horrible idea, you’re a fucking idiot Rogers._

“Glad you got that ticked off then,” Sam sounds unbearably sad. His eyes flick down at the book in Steve’s hand.

“No wait,” Steve says in a panic, and drops the blasted notebook on the ground. “This isn’t - I’m not just…” He curses under his breath, clenching his hands to stop them from shaking. _This is all wrong._ “I have wanted to do that for a very long time, Sam. I promise!” Everything feels hopelessly unsteady. Steve needs him to understand, takes hold of Sam’s hand - tentative and loose, in case he is misreading all of this again. In case Sam wants to bolt and forget he ever met him.

“Can I do it again?”

His face feels hot, his chest too tight. “Kiss you, I mean...would that be alright with you?” Steve can actually hear Sam swallow and he maybe forgets to breathe just then. Sam squeezes his fingers, tightens their hold on Steve’s hand and tugs him closer.

“If you want.”

Sam gives him a vulnerable half smile, waiting for his words to sink in with Steve.

“Oh...yes, yeah thank you. Of course!”

Sam is outright laughing at him now, his arms wound around Steve’s waist to pull him in tighter. “I’m waiting, Rogers.” Steve gets that determined glint in his eyes again, now matched with a blissful grin. He presses his lips lightly against Sam’s high cheekbones, peppers kisses down until he hears the other man gasp.

“So, what else is on your list?”

Sam is pleased to note that he can still make Steve Rogers blush within seconds. He crouches down to pick up the little red notebook that started all of this. Steve is quick to snatch it out of his hands though.

“Uhm - yes so, you weren’t actually technically on the list. I may have improvised a little there.” Sam kisses him deeply, unabashedly, like he’s always wanted to, his fingers happily threading through Steve’s hair.

“Remember back when we met and you asked me what makes me happy?” Steve pecks Sam on the lips, joy radiating off of him in waves. “I figured it out.”

 


End file.
